Show and Tell, Easter Style
by Kalen Bloodstone
Summary: COMPLETE... One-shot: - Beckett is faced with a hard choice; what to take with him to Show and Tell, on the day after Easter. RE-WRITTEN- Rated: K, Writer of Artemis F./Inheritance Cycle/Kate Daniels fandoms
1. Easter Style, Edited

Beck scrambled around his room, trying to find the one thing which would give him the credit he was due—a gumball sculpture.

Ever since yesterday, Easter morning, Beckett had been chewing massive amounts of gum in order to bring it in that day for show-and-tell at school.

It was a brisk Monday morning; and he turned over every piece of clothing strewn across the floor.

Not on the dresser, not under the bed, and definitely not under the medieval suit of armor standing erect against the wall. _Definitely_ not there. I mean really, who would . . . Beck would.

Just in case, he called Butler to pick the thing up; yep, not there either.

"What is the young master looking for today, hmm?" muttered the bodyguard before he exited.

"Sculpture," responded the frustrated toddler, as he threw the bedspread off and started stripping the mattress. Not there either.

Butler merely shrugged, used to the odd way the Fowl family worked.

The drum set? No, not there either.

After nearly ten minutes of searching, turning every single item on its end, Beck tired. He had about twenty minutes, if he was still to catch the bus. In twenty minutes, he could find it—or, he could not. A game of chance was not young Beckett's particular cup of tea, so he turned his mind to other things.

As he picked through his Easter basket, grinning as he moved over the miniature pots of gold – with real gold inside. Myles came in.

Dressed in a black and red rugby shirt, black khakis, and NSS black, white threaded, shoes (with a labcoat to cover it all), the young master walked in. In the crook of his arm, he held Professor Primate, and in one hand, he held his pride and joy: a Lamborghini Hotweels car.

Until the morning before, Beckett had been unaware of the model's existence; and he was right—it didn't exist. Artemis Fowl Senior had it commissioned by the head of Hotwheels development, Roger Joyce, and later commissioned another hundred, to be sold as one-of-a-kind replicas for his sons. Needless to say, Beck was jealous.

Myles tried to hide a sneer as he plopped down on one of the beds that occupied the nursery.

"How goes the hunt?" he inquired, racing the Hotweels across the bedspread.

"Fine," snapped Beck, his ruffled hair swaying almost as fast as he moved.

He stopped, momentarily, dead still; then just as quickly, ran around the room, stopping only once to examine the lampshade. He had turned utterly insane.

"Artemis!" yelled Myles, after running to the hallway. After a moment, his older brother emerged from the shadows, skulking, as if the shadows clung to him, as if they wanted him.

"Yes?" mused Artemis, his ultra-pale skin eerily vampire-like.

"Beck turned loony – go take a look," nervously replied Myles, as he took a step back into the room.

As Artemis entered the room, the air seemed to deaden at his presence; he walked forward, squaring his shoulders, and turned Beck around to face him. Artemis rested his hands on Beck's shoulders, to keep him in place and attentive.

"What's going on here?" he queried, his eyes searching his brothers; for what, few knew.

"Sculpture," he bleated, "wasn't there. I'm tryin' to find something else to bring. I'm sorry to have disturbed your work, Artemis . . ."

Artemis's eyes glazed slightly, as he thought. His eyes stayed open, as if invisible toothpicks held them up. Nearly a minute went by; when he snapped back to the present. He shook his head, than spoke once more.

"Don't worry about the project, I've only been working on it a few months." Artemis let the young child go, pacing the room as he talked. "As for this show-and-tell," a slight smirk attached itself to his face, "why would you bring the gumball sculpture, and not the vintage helicopter from M.A.S.H? Or maybe the last bottle of Scotch Abraham Lincoln ever drank from?"

"No!" Beck said, defiantly stamping his feet. "Gumball sculpture!" he yelled.

"Alright, alright," Artemis said, biting his tongue. "Where's the last place you had it?"

"Disneyland . . . I think . . ." replied Beck, his eyes slightly wider then usual.

"Well then, I guess that shoots this particular item out of the 'park.'"

Myles nodded his consent, as Beck scowled into the nearest pillow. He thrashed about, eyes tearing; needless to say, this young Fowl was having a tantrum.

"It is fact, not fiction, that I told you; come, I'll help you pick out a new show-and-tell piece," recited Artemis, his gaze lightening, slightly, as he looked on at his brother.

Beckett slouched still, but at least he was sitting.

Artemis spent the better part of the next few minutes indicating a large array of toys, clothing, and replicas as well as antiques – one even being a Squiggles authentic tentacle – but to no avail . . . Beck still refused.

Seven minutes till he had to leave, Beckett finally consented to an item—Indiana Jones and the Lost Ark's professional prop item # 549.

As Artemis picked up prop item # 549, Beckett simply pointed at it. He nodded. As he ran out the room, to catch a late breakfast, he snatched up the prop . . .

. . . Artemis watched out the window, a few moments later. There it was, the _big_ yellow bus, which was to take his brothers to school. He watched as they boarded and pulled out of the driveway; Beck and Myles with their friends, just another day at school . . .

* * *

><p>Artemis slowed his pace as he entered the Kitchen. Butler had left for the week on vacation, leaving his young charge . . . in charge.<p>

As Artemis turned the bend, he smelled exactly what he wanted: calzones. He reached for an oven mitt, and after putting it on, reached into the oven. Withdrawing a baking sheet, quickly, he placed it onto the stovetop.

After placing three of them onto plates, and placing a sprig of oregano on top of them, Artemis reached for the grape juice just in time to hear the front door open.

As the twins rushed into the room, making their usual ruckus, Artemis poured their juice into tumblers.

Taking a seat at the high chairs, the twins waited patiently for Artemis to place their snake before them.

"So," started Artemis, as he finished topping chocolate mousse with whipped crème, "how did today go?"

"Great," the two replied as one, digging into the mousse before the calzones_. Ith chéad Desert, or Eat desert first, _was their debatable motto for the next Fowl generations.

"And the show-and-tell?"

"I . . . won . . ." Beckett said between mouthfuls.

"Good, and what was the story behind it?"

He was, of course, indicating prop # 549 – also known as the Holy Grail, or at least to Indiana Jones and the Lost Ark. The clay goblet was sturdy, if not one to admire.

"I went . . . into the Passover, . . . and acted out the . . . scene from the movie," responded young Beck.

"Well, that certainly is interesting," Artemis commented, as he sliced off a portion of his calzone, distastefully smirking at the thing before taking a bite. Gulp!

* * *

><p>Sorry that it took me so long; but here it is!<p>

I'm going on a hiatus, until early June - wish me luck on vacation in Cali!

~ Kalen Bloodstone ~


	2. Easter Style, Original

**Show and Tell**

**_Easter Style_**

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><p>~ <span>Hope this finds you fine and writing.<span> ~

* * *

><p>Becket stooped down, once more, rummaging through his Easter basket. Candy? No, not impressive enough to show to his classmates. But that one was from Belgian? No, still no.<p>

It was show and tell day, this Monday morning, and Beckett was having second doubts on his original idea; bringing his new garter snake. He didn't want it to get to scared, which was highly plausible as to the snakes age.

So, here he was, dressed in tattered jeans, black rugby shirt, and simple NSS black, white threaded, shoes, deciding which gift he wanted to bring.

Just as he thought he had decided, his twin Myles entered. Dressed in the same manor. Though the two weren't identical, Angeline liked to think of them as such, and dressed them alike eighty per cent of the time.

In his arm he cradled Professor Primate, and as he walked across the room, his glasses slipped off the ridge of his nose. Scrambling to re-align them, Myles set Professor Primate down, ruffled his blonde curls, than picked the stuffed animal up again.

"What are ya' bringin to show and tell, Myles?" asked the youth, with genuine interested. He shifted his attention from searching, to his brother.

"Professor Primate, and a Lamborghini; you, Beck?" Myles never missed the punch, now "Beck" would have to roll with them . . .

"I 'as thinking of bringin the snake, Bethany, to show the class. I don' think 'dey would be able ta fathom my sincerity when I tell them how harmless e' is."

If Artemis was there, he would have commended him for using the word _fathom,_ that days word-of-the-day. He would have also asked the definition, but in the end would let his younger brother scapegoat.

"Agghhh . . . Well, have you seen my Lamborghini? I lost it yesterday, picking fungi off the bottom of the gazebo."

"I have not! I didn't take nothin'!" aggressively defended the younger of the two. He was always the first Papa went to when one of Myles toys was lost – mainly for the reason that he took it. Took/steal. Stupid word-of-the-day from a week ago.

"Okay . . . just asking. See you down stairs."

"Wait," stopped Beck, " there it is, on top of the dresser." Luckily, the twins still shared the nursery, so Beck would not be held in suspicion, but by the look of things, Myles may be cautious.

Happily, Myles snatched his hotwheels Lamborghini, which Beck didn't even know was in existence the other day; after double checking he had Professor Primate, he left, leaving Beck to search in vain of his item of showcase.

The Cuban art? No, but maybe the Native American dream catcher. Beck still couldn't decide. The chocolate bunny? Still no . . .

Beck struggled along, searching hopefully as the minutes ticked away.

Thirty – no more breakfast. Twenty – no more thoughts of grabbing a granola bar on his way out. Ten – definitely no form of food consumption, along with about seven minutes to catch the bus.

Then Artemis arrived, to save the day.

"How about this specimen?" asked the teenager as he held up a grubby item, plugging his nose with one hand, and holding the item with as few fingers as possible. _Myles may appreciate this for his mold experiments,_ thought Artemis.

"I already 'dought of Dee, bu' not now. We need somethin else – not that!"

For being so young, Beck was certainly finicky – no mater, he was a Fowl – it was their nature.

"And this?" Artemis asked once more, raising the clay goblet he had just found. It looked interesting enough.

"'Dhat was from the play earlier, the Passover."

"You know something, Beck?"

"What?"

"The whole point of Lent is to be prepared for Gods coming, to Jerusalem – or his metaphorical coming in our hearts – Yes?" gestured Artemis, moving his arms the way he did when explaining a new maths problem.

"Right . . ." responded Beck, trying to see where Artemis was going with all of this.

"Well, then, we are done being humble on Easter, right? We now can do the things we gave up, we don't have to fast, and prey as much?"

"Yes," he promptly responded.

"Yes and no – its both," corrected Artemis. "We can do the things we gave up for lent, though we should still stay humble. Prey too. You can never prey enough. St. Patrick spread the faith to Ireland so it could be saved from the Druids Gods, who were untrue – for this, we must not only thank the person who brought the faith over the Isles, but thank God for sending him.

"Who without, you wouldn't have had such fun acting in the play yesterday."

"Can ya ju't tell me what to do – it wou' be a lot simpler."

Artemis thought for a moment, but by the time he had decided, Beck knew what to do. Without a minute to spare, he grabbed the simple clay goblet, compared to his brother Lamborghini, and ran outside.

None-to-soon, he caught the bus right as it stopped in its tracks.

Artemis stepped outside, watching the two boys, as they entered the bus. One slumped onto the bus, tired and impatient with the day already – the other? Jubilantly strode to his friends, and started chirping away the morning.

Artemis smiled, knowing he had taught his brother the virtue of humility, and explained his case well enough.

Turning around, he walked back into his refuge.

* * *

><p>Artemis was in the Kitchen as he heard the door open, and the sound of walking rapidly to the Kitchen.<p>

Butler was given the week off, and had take to the warmer climates for some vacation.

The twins strode into the Kitchen, ready for their snack. Artemis had just topped the calzones with a sprig of oregano when they had come home. Taking seats on the high bar chairs, Artemis placed their snack before them.

"So, how did show and tell transverse?" Artemis asked, pouring three classes of grape juice before taking a seat to listen.

"Great," they both said, digging into the plate before them.

"Which kid won the cupcake?"

It was quite simple – a cupcake went the best showcased item's owner.

"I did!" practically yelled Beck. "Mr. Janssen said I had an original idea that couldn't be topped well – it went to well with the Passover and the story behind it."

Myles shrugged, took another bite of calzone, than emptied his glass. It was of no affair to him. He had already forgotten his own show-in-tell item, which had been lost on its way home.

As was the way with children, nothing being too serious for them.

Beck would surely forget soon, wouldn't he? Surly, he would?

Though they were wrong, because Beck remembered such things that evening, as he thanked god for the scrumptious cupcake in his prayers . . .

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><p>Hello, everyone! Yes, I just had to have another moral in these stories of mine. Sorry if its confusing, but its pretty late and I'm not going to bother with proof-reading a third time. Twice is enough at the moment. Hope you liked it, and hoping my Series finales will be received well!<p>

~ Kalen Bloodstone ~


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